


UnKiss Me

by Achrya



Series: UnVerse [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Vampire, And a vampire activist, Biting, Blood Drinking, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky is a...weird. thing, Crying, He finds the assumption that he kills people really offensive okay, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Vampire Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 15:43:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4612287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Achrya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky sees the man for what he is; too blue eyes, perfect smile, a flash of teeth, skin just a little too cool. He knows what to expect so he let’s the man take him home, leaves a message for his roommate, and gets ready for the end.<br/>What he actually gets is Steven Rogers, vampire rights activist, and the realization that he can’t even commit suicide by vampire properly. It’s a bad night all around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	UnKiss Me

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t own  
> Unbetad  
> Warnings: Blood, biting, suicidal thoughts, Bucky is incredibly hard on himself.  
> In which the MCU is a small supernatural community tucked away in Brooklyn, somehow. Perhaps existing in some kind of sidebyside dimensional space that only the supernaturally aware can enter. IDK. Best not think about it too hard.

“You’re coming out to SHIELD with us Friday.” A hand clapped him on the shoulder and it took a serious effort to not jump away or lash out because he knew it was Pietro. It was always Pietro, no one else was stupid enough to sneak up on him like that.

Clint said Pietro was touch starved as result of a less than stellar childhood and Bucky could see the truth in that. Pietro talked with his hands and was always reaching out, pulling in, cuddling up with anyone who’d let him and it never seemed like a sexual thing (unless it was Clint in which case it was always sexual) but rather how he grounded himself. Pietro had tried to give him his space and he had seen the way he’d cringe and look guilty, faintly sad, when he’d start to reach for Bucky only to remember that he wasn’t supposed to.

So Bucky had forced himself to adjust, to get used to it.

He didn't think he would have done it for anyone but Pietro but making that kid look sad was like kicking a fucking puppy and Bucky was no puppy kicker. Besides, Pietro had been nothing but good to him. He’d showed up 12 months ago half out of his mind, missing an arm, and having no where to go and Clint’s boyfriend had taken one look at him and gone to make up the guest bedroom.

He’d recovered, as much as he could, and tried to leave a few times but Pietro and Clint were always there, blocking the door and glaring him into submission. He knew it was a guilt thing, that Clint felt responsible for what had happened and that Pietro just had a thing for damaged people (as evidenced by his relationship with Clint) and Bucky hated being pitied, hating being an obligation...but he didn’t have anything else. He hadn’t spoken to his sister in a while and Clint was his only friend. He couldn’t go back to what he’d been doing before, didn’t have any marketable skills to speak of…

So he stayed and worked in Wanda and Pietro’s tea and coffee shop that he was pretty sure doubled as a herb and mystical item store.

Bucky had never asked because it wasn’t his business, and as far as he could tell no one was getting hurt, but he’d met a witch or two in his day, knew what they felt like. Wanda and Pietro felt like an entire coven of witches crammed into two small bodies.  

He looked up from his tablet to squint at Pietro. “I’m going out with you?”

Pietro smiled widely. “That is what I said, yes.”

Bucky looked very deliberately at his other shoulder, the one that was a twisted mess of scar tissue under his t-shirt. Pietro’s gaze flickered that way as well then back to his face, eyebrow arched.

“Yes?”

“I’m not sure I look fit for public.” He knew he wasn’t. At work anytime someone who wasn’t a regular came in there was that moment where they stared at him, horror in their eyes, then did that thing where they carefully didn’t look at him at all like that was any better. Then they’d fall all over themselves, looking uncomfortable as they gave their order as if they were afraid to make the man with one arm work.

Outside of work was even worse because people were less ‘overly kind out of nervousness’ and occasionally downright rude, with long wide eye looks, whispers, and disgusted looks. He went into grocery stores and people would stay insanely far away, changing their paths to huge the opposite wall or making huge semi-circles around him like they were afraid he was contagious.

He kind of brought down the mood in places just by existing.

More and more he found himself wishing he’d never made it out, never dragged himself up and come to Clint’s. He didn’t even know what the fuck he was doing anymore besides being babied by his best friend and two strange witches.

Pietro snorted. “Sure you don’t. Besides, the old man never looks fit for the public.”

“I can hear you!” Clint called from the kitchen, then muttered something that involved the words ‘brat’ and ‘twink’.

Bucky laughed, because that was what he was suppose to do, what he would have done easily once upon a time, then shook his head. “I’m not good company.”

“You’ll be great company.” Pietro said, tone implying he felt Bucky was being stupid. “It’s our birthday party and you’re coming. Wanda wants you to and she’ll be disappointed if you don’t.”

Bucky heard the threat there. If Pietro and Wanda were an entire cover crammed into two people then 70% of that coven was Wanda. You just didn’t tell her no or deny her was she wanted if you valued your life, and that was without her so much as ever flexing her power. She just had...a presence.

A scary one.

Clint stepped into the small dining room, a steaming mug of coffee in each hand. He placed one in front of Bucky then slouched into the chair across from him. “Don’t threaten him Pietro. But. You don’t want to disappoint Wanda. She’s bringing her new boyfriend and she’s saying she needs you to give your seal of approval.”

Bucky squinted. Wanda seemed to have gotten this idea in her head that his initial opinion of people was worth something. She’d floated a few potential suppliers, employees, and dates by him over the past year and while he was always honest it kind of creeped him out.

He couldn’t trust his own judgement anymore and he just couldn’t understand why she had so much faith in him.

Maybe just to make him feel useful beyond being the freak show barista. Impossible to say, Wanda’s motivations were her own and as far as he could tell she didn’t like to explain herself.

“Wouldn’t want to disappoint Wanda.” He said finally. Pietro nodded, lips quirking.

“You really do not.”

“Guess I’m going out then.” He took a sip of his coffee and pretended he didn’t see the nervous look Pietro sent Clint over the top of his head.

\---

When Friday night finally rolled around Wanda came down from her apartment with clothes tucked under her arm and scissors in hand. He hadn’t been too happy about about letting someone near him with something sharp but Clint had slunk out of wherever he’d been hiding and sat at his feet, letting Bucky grip his shoulder hard enough to leave bruises like it was a completely normal occurrence and not indicative of him having more issues than any one person had a right to have.

In the end his hair was trimmed and pulled back into a bun (Wanda was adamant that man buns were a thing now.), he’d shaved, and put on the dark jeans, army green t-shirt, and gray plaid button down Wanda had brought for him. He grumbled about having his own clothes but she’d laughed so hard at there hadn’t been anything to do except do what she wanted.

He couldn’t even be trusted to dress himself it seemed.

SHIELD was a dimly lit club about four blocks over from the shop. He knew about it, Clint worked there as a bartender, bouncer, and whatever else was needed, but he’d never been. The line outside was long but Wanda glided to the head and they were waved right in. It was full of people and loud, which was to be expected, and he was on edge as soon as they stepped inside.

Pietro and Clint broke away, beelining for the bar, while Wanda lead him past the dance floor to a booth in the back where a man was waiting. He was tall with dark skin, dark brown eyes, and an easy smile. He stood up when he saw them and leaned down to press a quick kiss to the corner of Wanda’s mouth.

The woman went a little pink and smiled brightly. Bucky arched an eyebrow because he couldn’t recall her ever being anything except stoic and darkly amused but in that moment she looked younger, lighter.

“Sam, this is my brother’s roommate, James.” She pointed at him. “This is Sam Wilson.”

Sam held out a hand and Bucky took it; glancing down at the electric tingle that danced over his skin at the contact. He looked back up, focusing on the other man. Sam’s attention was back on Wanda; when he tilted his head towards her Bucky could see a golden gleam to his eyes.

Interesting.

“Nice to meet you. And you can call me Bucky; no one but Wanda calls me James.”

“Yeah well, Wanda seems to just do whatever she wants.” The humor in Sam’s words and the small smile that turned his lips up when he looked at Wanda took any potential sting out of the words.

Wanda pushed a strand of red tipped hair back behind her ear. “Pietro says its my world and the rest of you are just hoping I treat it well.”

“That...that seems accurate.” Bucky said, looking down at her. She practically glowed in the darkness and he imagined he could feel the energy crackling around her. Her smile shifted, became dark and toothy and yeah. It seemed completely accurate.

Clint and Pietro arrived with drinks, trailed by a tiny redhaired woman with smokey green eyes who introduced herself as Natasha, the bartender and Sam’s boss. The air around her was somehow darker than everything else and the shadows seemed to roll and twist around her, stroking over her skin and threading through her hair.

He accepted his drink gratefully and shifted deeper into the booth and further away from the woman. Clint caught his eye and shrugged as if to say ‘No, I have no idea how I ended up here either’.

He and Clint had grown up together, part of a small community of hunters. They’d worked together, handling demons, vamps, witches...anything and everything that posed a threat and they’d been good at it, some of the best around.

And then one day Clint had shown up at their shared apartment with Pietro. Bucky hadn’t thought anything of it at first because Clint liked to walk on the strange side and had a string of not exactly human lovers behind him. He’d laughingly reminded Clint to check Pietro’s ID and make sure his new friend was legal, thinking Pietro would be forgotten soon enough, but two months later his best friend had been packing up for New York City and leaving most of his weapons behind because he was done hunting.

Clint’s brother, Barney, had been pissed. Hell, everyone had been pissed. Clint hadn’t just run off from their community but he’d done it with some smart mouthed teenager eight years younger than he was who maybe was a witch, or at least felt like witch. It was a betrayal. There had been a lot of pressure to abandon Clint, to break off all communication, and two months after the archer had left Bucky had left too, striking out on his own.

They’d stayed in contact and after what had happened he’d been grateful for it. Going back to the hunters was impossible, once you leave you were forgotten, and...well.

Everything had changed.

The night crept on with Bucky nursing his second drink the entire time. People came by with birthday wishes and gifts for the twins. Thor, who worked at the coffee shop, his always sour looking brother Loki and their girlfriends Jane and Darcy came with pendants made of glowing stone (blue for Pietro and red for Wanda) etched with runes Bucky couldn’t make out in the darkness. They’d left shortly after arriving, Thor regretfully explaining their father (Loki had sneered) had need of them.  

Riley, Sam’s roommate who also worked at SHIELD, had slid into the booth and handed over a thick leather bound book for Wanda (who then spent the rest of the night petting it like it was a precious pet) and a box of gems for Pietro. He’d stayed, happy to tell humiliating stories about Sam much to Wanda’s delight.

Around midnight Clint and Pietro had descended into drunken grossness, as opposed to their usual sober grossness. Bucky watched, smiling wryly, as Pietro scooted close and closer and eventually ended up in Clint’s lap, face buried against the other man’s neck.

Bucky didn’t know what they were doing but Clint’s face was turning red and his eyes were going glassy. It was far from the first chance he’d seen them paw at each other (There was the infamous incident where he’d woken up from a nightmare to the sound of something shattering and came barreling out of his room with a loaded gun only to find Pietro bent over the couch and the tableside lamp broken on the ground.)

Frankly it was the most familiar part of the night. Everything else was leaving him nervous and edgy. All the noise, the darkness, the inability to really see or hear anything...it was wearing on him. He was tense and not even the conversation or Clint and Pietro’s touchyfeely antics could keep the dark moodiness from falling over him.

Everytime someone not at the table shouted and came too close to their corner he found himself flinching and sinking further back. He wished he opted for a seat not on the end of the booth but at the same time he hated being pinned in and probably wouldn’t have tolerated an inside seat any better.

He couldn’t figure out what to do with himself most of the time and this was no exception.

Slowly he withdrew, letting the others talk and gesture and drink, and focused on trying to breathe instead.

Somewhere close by the sound of glass shattering and someone shrieking had him going stiff and his heart leaping up into his throat. He felt sweat prickling the back of his neck.

“James?” A hand touched his arm and he jumped, yanking loose and dropping the lukewarm glass he was holding. He had a glimmer of a thought to use his other hand to grab the person who’d touched him but he didn’t have another hand, just the phantom of movement and feeling and prickling pain in his ruined shoulder and-

He let out a shaky breath then smiled at Wanda thinly. She was frowning at him intently, eyes sharp and wary. Sam and Riley had gone silent and thought they weren’t looking at him outright he could feel them trying to watch him subtly, waiting to see what he was going to do next.

Wanda reached for him again, slow and deliberate, and it was so much like someone trying to sooth a wild animal that it made him feel sick.

“I’m fine.” He slid out of the booth before she could make contact. “I’m going to get another drink. And napkins.”

He could hear Clint calling after him but he didn’t stop. He melted into the crowd easily and regretted it; this was even worse than the table. People so close, touching him, the smell of sweat and skin and perfume, so think he could taste it in the back of his throat, the thump of music throbbing in his head and it was just

He stumbled, slamming into someone. Something wet splashed onto his front and he started to say something but then realize the person he’d jostled was falling backwards. He reached and gripped the front of their coat on reflex.The person was small and light so even with just the one arm he was able to yank them back. They ended up colliding with him, head bumping against his chin.

“Oh! Damn it!” The small man looked up to meet his gaze. His eyes were a clear perfect blue and blazing like fire.  “I’m so sorry! I got my drink all over you. Uh. Hold...come on.”

A small cool hand wrapped around his wrist in a shockingly strong grip and he found himself being hauled towards the bar. He couldn’t do anything but trail after him and, once they’d reached the bar, let himself be wiped down with a wad of napkins.

The man looked stricken, pale bottom lip trapped between his teeth and eyes narrowed in an almost absurd kind of concentration. Bucky just...stared. His skin was pale, save a flush rising up his cheeks, his hair was golden blond, longer on top but shaved on the sides and pulled back though a few strands had come loose and were flopping over his eyes. He had a hoop through his eyebrow and one of his ears was littered with hoops and studs.

The energy around him was calm, so perfectly calm, and warm and thick and bright and...it was kind of beautiful.

“Uh.” The man had realized he was staring and was blushing darker now. Bucky watched the red seep into his skin. “Are...um. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He blinked once then forced a smile. “I don’t run over cute guys that often is all. Let me buy you a replacement drink?”

“...okay.” He smiled slowly, eyes flashing. “I’m Steve.”

“Bucky.”

Steve tilted his head to the side. “What kind of name is Bucky?”

“Mine.”

Steve’s smiled widened, showing off his teeth and for just a second the world shifted or stuttered or...something and Bucky caught a hint of inhumanly sharp teeth and the slitted, almost snake like, pupils. Then it was gone and he was watching Steve lean over the bar and flag down a bartender.

Vampire.

He hadn’t seen any vamps since he’d come out to New York. He’d killed a few in his time, more than a few actually. They were all pretty much the same; they were nomadic and solitary for the most part, cruised bars and clubs and other places where it was easy to peel a desperate person away from the crowd and lure there somewhere to drain them. A smart vamp could stay at it for a while, sticking to the sort of people who wouldn’t be missed for a while if at all, killing quietly and then covering their tracks and moving on to a new area.

Stupid ones who stayed put or didn’t bother to cover the bite marks or make the crime look like something else...well they ended up on some hunter’s radar and killed.

Lucky for Steve Bucky was desperate. He hadn’t realized he was but he must have been to be eyeing up a Vamp and thinking about going somewhere with him when he knew going anywhere with a vampire was signing his own death certificate.

They talked.

Steve was born and bred in Brooklyn and had come to SHIELD to meet a friend’s girlfriend but didn’t mind Bucky stealing his attention. He hadn’t exactly been eager to come out and when Bucky asked why he got a flinty look and said, tone a little bland, that he’d been hoping for a quiet night in with some food not a crowded club with strangers.

Bucky nodded and told him that he wasn’t a fan of crowds either but he’d been forced out by his friends.

“I think they’re worried because I don’t do anything but work and haunt the house.” He closed his eyes, rubbing his thumb over the peeling label of his beer. “They’re always worried about me.”

It was suffocating. The constant worry, the way they watched him when they thought he wasn’t aware, the looks they exchanged behind his back, the soothing voices they put on when he was having an episode. It was bad enough he couldn’t trust himself around them, had even installed a lock on his door and windows so that he was only a danger to himself when he had night terrors, but lately they looked at him like they expected him to lose it at any moment.

Steve looked thoughtful. “That just means they care, doesn’t it?”

Cared like someone cared about a rabid dog.

“Yeah.” He agreed then pushed away from the bar, setting his bottle down. “Did you get to eat before you came here?”

Steve went rigid, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Hmm?”

“You said you want to stay in and eat.” Bucky said, keeping his tone light. “I wouldn’t mind getting out of here myself and I was thinking that ‘in’ with you sounds as good as anything else.”

Steve looked down, long pale lashes brushing over his skin, and his voice was a rough whisper. “I’m not sure you know what you’re getting into.”

Bucky shivered, a chill working up his spine. “Is this the part where you tell me you bite? Because I might like that.”

Steve’s laughter was as pretty as the rest of him.

\--

Steve’s place was surprisingly normal. A neat and tidy studio, artfully sectioned into smaller areas with furniture. The only really interesting feature was a small set of stairs that lead to a small loft that looked to be completely dominated by a bed.

“Uh, just take a seat.” Steve gestured for the couch. “I’ve gotta call my friend. He sent a half dozen messages while we were in the taxi.”

Bucky nodded and watched as Steve stepped back out of the apartment, pulling the door shut after him. He shuffled over to the couch, taking a moment to look at the art easel and supplies in the room as he passed them, then drew his own phone out. He had a message waiting and wasn’t surprised to find it was from Clint, asking where he was.

He hesitated for a moment, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. Clint deserved a...a something. After everything.

But what the fuck was he supposed to say? Went home with a vampire after making a cheesy biting joke, don’t expect to ever see me again?  

‘I’m sorry about this. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore and I think I’m done trying’ He paused, thumbs hovering over his screen. That was awful. Maybe he should go with his original thought. No, that was worse, they had earned better than some stupid jokes.

‘I’m sorry. I won’t be trouble for you anymore. Forgive me.’

He hit enter before he could change him mind then turned the phone off. It was just powering down when Steve walked back in, smiling ruefully at something. Then his eyes fell on Bucky and he inclined his head to the side, lips parting as his eyes gained that glow again.

He looked hungry.

He kissed like he was hungry too. One minute he was in the door, looking at him, and the next he was on the couch, arms around Bucky’s neck and kissing him hard, licking into his mouth. It was tongue and teeth, sharp nips and spit and a deft eager tongue tasting every part of his mouth; Bucky groaned and sunk into it.

A shove, stronger than Steve’s small body should be capable of, had him on his back on the couch and Steve followed, straddling his hips and dipping back in to reclaim his mouth. His mouth was cool, but not cold, and he tasted like beer and mint and it was...nice.

Surprisingly nice.

Without a doubt the ‘nicest’ thing to happen to him in over a year.

He wasn’t sure if that made him lucky or not.

They kissed for what somehow felt like a long time and not nearly long enough. He lost his button down at some point and even let Steve yank off his tshirt, managing to not shove the other man away when his shoulder was exposed. He did go still and let out a shuddering breath, unable to help himself. Steve stopped for a moment, lips just barely touching his own.

His eyes seemed soft for a moment, fire in them dimming into something that made Bucky feel strangely warm.

Then he moving away from his mouth completely, trailing his lips and damp air over his cheek down towards his neck. Bucky couldn’t help but whine at the loss. Steve laughed, bright and amused, then pressed his lips into the hollow behind Bucky’s ear. His tongue followed, swiping a path down to the spot where his neck met his shoulder. Lips sealed over skin and sucked lightly and Bucky gasped, hand coming up to grip Steve’s hip.

Steve rolled his hips, grinding against Bucky, and let out what sounded like a pleased hum. Bucky arched up in a mixture of surprise and pleasure, arousal licking up his spine and pooling in his stomach.

Steve nuzzled at his throat. “You smell so good. What are you?”

His voice was thick, words slurring strangely. Then his mouth was on him again and Bucky felt pressure, two sharp points, before his skin gave way. He’d expected it to hurt but other than the initial sharp sting it just kind of tickled when Steve sealed his lips around his skin and sucked.

A warm hazy feeling, a lot like being drunk, crept over him. He sank into it gratefully and let his eyes drift shut.

This dying thing was actually going better than he’d thought it would.

Abruptly Steve pulled back. “You’re sad.”

He cracked open an eye. “Wha?”

“You’re sad.” Steve repeated, frowning. His face was flushed and Bucky could feel a warmth radiating from him that hadn’t been there before. His lips were swollen and red and there was a smear of blood at the corner at his mouth. “I can taste it in your blood.”

Bucky opened his other eye. “What do you care? Do you have something against killing sad people?”

“Well it makes your blood taste What?” His eyes went comically wide. “You thought I was going to kill you?”

Bucky frowned. “You aren’t?”

What the fuck?

“I don’t kill people! We don’t all kill people!” Steve scrambled off of him, expression thunderous. “That is a really hurtful stereotype you know and one I’m working really hard in the community to get rid of. Sure, some of us kill but some humans kill. Some witches kill. Some weres kill but no one ever just assumes when one takes them home they’re gonna...be...”

He looked like he was getting a full head of steam going and was waving his arms but all at once he stopped, face going slack and eyes dulling.

“You thought I was going to kill you. You came here thinking I was going to kill you.”

“We established that.” Bucky levered himself up to a sitting position, eyes scanning the small apartment for his shirt.

“You want to die.” Steve dropped back onto the couch. “You were trying to use me to die. That...that’s really...wow. I have never had a boner killed so fast. I thought I'd actually met someone who wasn't one of those Twilight weirdo types and...wow.”

Yeah, wow.

He felt like an idiot, and a little bit like an asshole because Steve seemed nice enough and maybe he shouldn’t have assumed he was the killing sort but seriously, what were the fucking odds of meeting a non-killing vamp who, apparently, was some kind of activist for the non-fatal feeding cause?

He hadn’t even known any of that was a thing.

The drunk feeling was gone, leaving only a hollow ache in its wake. He was fucked. This whole thing was fucked; he couldn’t even…

Just

Fuck.

His eyes were burning and he realized belatedly that he was crying.

Bucky was pretty sure this was the actual rock bottom of ‘pitiful’.

He stood up, spotting his shirt on top of the TV (how even) and was about to pull it on (something he hated doing in front of other people because there was always pity there because even a year later it wasn’t as easy as it had been when he had two arms and two hands.

“You can’t leave.” Steve said, stepping into his personal space and catching his hand. “I can’t let you just leave.”

Bucky tried to pull his hand away but Steve was strong, stronger than he had any right to be, and he couldn’t even manage to move him at all.

He’d been wrong. Standing here being pitied by a tiny vampire was rock bottom. It had to be, it really did, because he didn’t think he could handle anything else.

“I need to go.” He didn’t look up, kept his eyes trained on the hand Steve was holding.

“And do what? Jump off a building or something?”

“No!” He wasn’t sure why but he felt oddly offended at the suggestion. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Would he?

No.

Well…

No.

Steve inhaled sharply. “So you just limit your suicide attempts to having people do it for you? That’s nice of you.”

“Yeah well.” He didn’t actually have anything to say to that.

He’d thought about it, thought about killing himself more often than he thought about anything else but he never managed to actually pull the trigger and finish it. He supposed he was just a coward really, too scared or afraid of...something.

He didn’t even know what.

But Steve seemed nice. Funny and smart and not at all hard on the eyes and it...he’d thought this would be easy. And there’d even be the added bonus of actually being useful for the first time in a year, even if it was just in playing human takeout for someone else.

His legs decided they didn’t want to work anymore and he was kneeling on the ground and he was crying. Sobbing, really, loud painful body shaking sobs and he didn’t know when he’d started or how to make it stop. Arms wrapped around his shoulder and he found his face pressed against Steve’s stomach.

When a hand carded through his hair and he realized Steve was murmuring comforting nonsense and that, fuck his entire pointless dead end existence, it was helping, he decided that, in fact, this HAD to be as bad as it could get.

How had he gone from a hunter who was respected by his peers and actually helped people to this pathetic, gimpy, crying, snotty mess anyway?

Well he knew how but what had possessed him to peel himself off of that cave floor and drag his ass to get help? Why hadn’t he just died there?

That would have been so much easier for everyone.

“If you want to talk we can talk.” Steve’s nails scratched over his scalp and it was disgusting how good it felt. “Or not. I’m not...I just think...I think you could use someone?”

Bucky laughed wetly. “Are you some kind of vamp saint?”

He should have been angry with him and had every right to be. Bucky had tried to use him, had been hoping he’d do what he was too much of a coward to do himself, and apparently was being super offensive as well.

“This is weird isn’t it?” Steve sighed. “I’m just...I don’t know. You shouldn’t be alone. You should stay.”

He closed his eyes. “Okay.”

It didn’t really mean anything. He let Steve pull him off of the floor and navigate him up into the small loft. His shoes and pants were taken off then he was bundled up in blankets and arranged so his head was pillowed in Steve’s lap and…

It didn’t have to mean anything.

One night with some random vampire wasn’t going to change anything. He was going to leave in the morning and Steve wouldn’t be able to stop him (unless he had the whole ‘sleeping during the day’ thing wrong too.) and they’d never see each other again and this wouldn’t mean anything.

He started drifting, suddenly more tired than he’d ever been. Steve’s fingers brushed over his face.

“You really do smell good you know. Like nothing I’ve smelled before.” Steve sounded a little dreamy to his barely awake mind. “I bet you’d taste amazing if you were happy. I think I’d like to keep you. Is that strange? ...that’s so strange. I’m not usually so weird. Oh god, I hope you’re asleep.”

Bucky sighed and rolled over, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist.

It didn’t have to mean anything.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> And somewhere drunk and horny Clint is checking his phone and losing his shit.  
> #JusticeforSteve'sBoner. He thought there was gonna be a little biting and then he'd feed Bucky cookies and juice (You just know he has 'hey, I drank your blood, let me feed you and take care of you' supplies) then bang his brains out. 
> 
> How I picture Steve's apartment. My world is a in depth one. http://www.furinter.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/05/studio-with-decoration-loft-bed.jpg


End file.
